Happiness In The Homeland
Happiness In The Homeland
Chapter III: The Green Sabre
It's been a few years since that fateful night of meeting Robbing Hood. Who would've thought my ass would be saved by some street hustler, it goes against a hustler's policy unless they deemed you profitable. I don't know what in his mind possessed him to look out for me, but I'm glad he did. No matter how many times I look back on it, rewind the scenario and insert what ifs, those scenarios remained just that, what ifs. Who knows what the outcome would have been had he not intervened that night. But everything pointed to grim results and possibly casualties. So, in return of his gracious handout, I jumped on board with Robbing Hood's team at his auto/chop shop.
With each race, we pulled cars into our own warehouse. With each win, my fame on the streets grew. My confidence grew just as much as my image did. While the shop kept a low profile, I was making headlines all over social media. And with both washing each other's hand, we made a lot of money. My skepticism about Robbing Hood's plan had completely faded away two years in the game. That $40,000 that I was worried about was nearly pocket change after accumulating a savings of $600,000. In a way, I'm glad things had worked out this way. Soon after I acquired this massive amount of cash, my father's shop was going under water. While I was ripping and running the streets, he was falling behind, still looking for a way to provide. When I found out by way of seeing an opened letter on the table with a statement for $150,000, I had to do something and take care of that for him. It was the very least I could do after all we've been through and him sticking around as a father. With it all going under his nose, I paid off his $150,000 debt and wrote him a check for another $150,000 from my alias account. As much as I hated to see $300,000 of hardwork go, I knew it was going to a greater cost. To see my old man happy doing what he love after losing what we loved and cherish, the last thing I needed to see was him spiraling out. But of course, the random check came with questions, but he quickly understood to never look a gifted horse in the mouth.
Last edited by The JZA on 19 Nov 2024, 11:36, edited 1 time in total.
Happiness In The Homeland
From street racing to the pro circuit. Brodie is the kimbo slice of F1
Happiness In The Homeland
some bad rides in here 
Happiness In The Homeland
Chapter IV: Fender Benders
Days has gone by, and weeks. I waited, biding my patience against anxiety and anxiousness. But the call never came. The big race I've been anticipating, hadn't shown up. A couple of times I called Zhang, trying to find out what's up with the challenger. They weren't answering none of my text messages that inquired the details. But Zhang was adamant about forgetting about the race and moving on. Physically, I checked out, mentally, the stakes was on my mind. It wasn't like there was just money on the line, it was also my car, their car and $100 grand. Of all races, this was the only one I've been nervous about. Having no control, I was damn near pitiful and I needed a new release. Weeks prior, I was lounging around the crib, a Saturday afternoon I spent watching the race of the Belgian Grand Prix that featured Pastor Maldonado, one of the worst F1 drivers due to his consistent crashings. About halfway through the event, my father texted me, asking me to make a store run to Autozone and pick up a few items. I didn't have much going on, no races, no jobs, I didn't mind and needed to get out the house anyway. After weaving through afternoon traffic, I finally get to the store and make the purchases and headed out back to my Dad's garage to make the drop off. I arrived maybe 30-45 minutes later and gathered the things out the car and headed my way inside. Distracted by the blaring sirens giving chase to some maniac driver at the intersection, I walked into the entry door that swung open, smacking me in the face as I dropped everything for my nose. My father's garage held up together, but needed some maintenance it-self, ironically. But the hinges had no forgiveness, allowing the metal door to wildly swing open. Or perhaps it was just a sign to pay attention to what was standing before me...
"Oh! Oh! Sorry! Are you okay!?", the feminine voice asked. I hadn't put a face to the voice just yet as I had my eyes closed from being smacked in the face. Regaining my visual, I quickly noticed it was her, Greta...
"Yeah, yeah, I'm fine. I'm the one who should've been paying attention", I said wavering off the apology. "Wait a second... Greta? Greta Cumacho?"
"Y-yes, that's me", she said hesitatingly. "Do I know you from somewhere?"
"It's me, Cory. We went to school together when we was younger."
"CJ? Oh my gosh! Hey! I hardly recognize you!"
"Yeah, I can almost say the same about you", I rebutted as I glanced down her body from her face as I kneel down to pick up the shopping items I dropped. Man, I couldn't believe it. This was the same Greta from all those years ago that I loss to. Who would've thought that big headed, bushy eyebrow girl would turn out to be a hottie. Still the same long black hair, prominent eyebrows as usual, but a lot less bushy. Full lips, glowing skin, body from the neck down was kinda petite, but with some slim-thick attributes, even in baggy windbreakers you can see the curves casting from her waistband around her lower hips, noticing the fading sun tan lines that arched up to her waist. She was a 9.5 if I ever seen one, maybe even a 9.8.
"Here, let me help you with that, it's my fault", she offered.
"Nah, it's cool. No worries, nothing's broken, just a bump on the nose."
"Hey, what's going on? Everything alright?" My father had stepped to the entry door, wondering the commotion. My old man keeps the central air conditioner on constant, so he's very adamant about opened doors, even in a business space. "Oh, hey son, were you able to get everything off the list?"
"Yeah, I got it all here", I handed over the items and equipment.
"I see you've run into your old nemesis here."
"Yeah, you can say something like that."
"Anyway, thanks son, I'll leave you two kids to catch up. Greta, I'll see you tomorrow afternoon."
"Thank you, Unc, I appreciate you always." Greta returned her attention back to me after my father went back inside to his business. "Is that really your Dad? I had no idea."
"Yeah, that's my old man since 1990."
"I always come here and to get my car tuned up, I would've never thought you two would be related. Now that I see it, it's unmistakable", she says as I see her eyes taking a gander.
"Yeah, I guess I had to grow into my looks and weather all the acne I had with puberty. Then there's the fact that it's been some years since we last seen each other, think you left town just before high school?"
"Yeah, it definitely has been some time, CJ, you look good."
"Likewise. You've definitely grown. Could easily mistake you for one of those self-absorbed Instagram models, no offense, you just look that damn good, kudos to your wellness."
"Thanks, but that could never be me, no way. I'm still much of a tomboy if you asked me."
"Huh, didn't take you for one, but I guess the way you ripped up the courses back in the day, you didn't have much time for dolls or anything else."
"Yeah, how do you know about that? Have we raced together before?"
"Yeah, we did. You were my first and only loss. You literally lapped me, I'll never forget that day", I go on to tell her the details of the event, what happened and her, of course, winning the prix.
"I'm sorry, I do remember winning a trophy there, but I have no memory of it. It's like, so vague. I don't know, crazy that you remember something from so long ago."
"Just some things you never forget, I guess. So what's the damage to your car, everything's good?"
"Oh, uh, just the usual maintenance, oil, flush, all that stuff, a new alternator and transmission rebuild."
"Yikes, can imagine what that bill is going to look like."
"Ah, no, it's really not that all that bad. Your Dad hooks me up with a discount since I referred his shop, he's been really great to me and always make sure my girl is top notch."
"Yeah, that's definitely him, always going above and beyond." I took a look through the panels of the garage and spotted the obvious car that belong to her. "Is that 928 GTS Porsche?"
"You know your cars? Impressive"
"Something like that. I was looking at one when I got my first car, but old man in there surprised me with a car for my 16th."
"Oh yeah? What you working with?" Greta and I took a walk around the backside where I usually park from the curb, "damn! This is a pretty sweet ride! Let me guess, a 2002 Impreza?"
"2004, the WRX STi. On base, this is nothing compared to yours. You got a V8."
"Hey, engine don't matter, the driver does."
"True, but engine matters just as much. I swapped out the 2.5L for a V6, still not as powerful as yours, but I don't trade off as much acceleration."
"You think you can beat my car?", Greta asked with a slight smile.
"Definitely. Top speed? No, but in a quarter-mile or even half, you stand no chance."
"Whoa, big talk already, you just wait til I get my car out the shop, we gonna take a spin."
"Can't wait, I need that redemption anyway", I laughed off. "So, what's up? You got anywhere you need to be right now?"
"Not really, was just going to go back home and call it a day."
"Hop in, let's get a bite, catch up and I'll drop you off home."
"You sure I'm not imposing?"
"Nah, I got you." I opened the passenger door for Greta to enter. She looks at me with a smile as she takes her seat and I closed the door, then proceed to make my way over to the driver side.
"This is a really nice car, CJ. You must've dumped a lot of money into this car modding it out.", Greta compliments as she looks around the custom console, tapping on the F1 car chain that dangled under the mirror.
"About $16 grand."
"That's insane!", Greta chuckled. "I'm sure your Dad didn't just cough that kind of bread up or you found it laying around."
"Had to hustle it up. Tore the streets up for a couple years, made some enemies, but made a lot more money. I work with some guys at a shop as well, I do jobs and errands for them, I can't complain about the pay."
"That's what's up. You ever been caught slipping by the cops?"
"Nah, I'm fortunate enough that they haven't upgraded to keep up yet. But I learned to move around for that type of stuff. What about you?"
"Oh, I don't street race, just closed courses."
"Smart girl. A pretty face would be a waste behind bars." I caught a glimpse of her blushing as we drove off the lot.
From there, we grabbed a quick bite from In-N-Out Burger, chopping it up along the way about the past few years and our high school days at separate schools. Just after junior high, she and her family moved to San Pedro after her parents opened a family restaurant there. When not in school, she was working part-time at Cabrillo Marine Aquarium starting out before she decided to work at her family's business for the last year of school. Though she raced little to none these days, her dream was to always become a stock car driver. And she was determined until reality hit her with the death of her father, senselessly gunned down just after closing up the restaurant and mistaken for the wrong guy. After a few hours chilling together, we made our way to her place, where we stopped in front of her given address.
"This you here?"
"Yeah, all me, and my Mom."
"Looks like a nice place, definitely a nice neighborhood. Y'all do well for yourselves."
"We try, but you know the saying, yesterday prices are today's prices."
"Tell me about it. We all need an out before this hell hole of America eats us alive."
"Wow... Bit of a dark turn there."
"Nah, I didn't mean it like that. L.A. is just such a struggle at times. Just makes you want to stay home and not deal with the fake people out here."
"Yeah, I know what you mean. Well CJ, I appreciate the ride. And it was nice seeing you."
"It was nice seeing you too, Greta. How about we exchange numbers, we keep in touch."
"Yeah, that'll be cool, lets hang sometime soon", Greta input her number into my cellphone, calling hers to lock me in.
"No doubt, we'll definitely chill again. Also, if you need a ride to the shop tomorrow, I could pick you up."
"You don't mind? That'd really be great."
"Yeah, no problem, I'll see you tomorrow, and maybe you can show me a thing or two with your 928."
"Consider it done, Maestro. Have a goodnight."
"Goodnight."
All it took was one day to reunite. Then one day turned into one week, then a month. It wasn't long til we found ourselves on the borderlines of a relationship. You'd think a girl like her living in Southern California was living the good life, but even darkness is leery around every corner. Since her father's death, she's been recluse to the world, only stepping out when needed or to make money. Life it-self took a fraction of who she was away from herself and I totally understood it, I nearly went through the same with my Mother, just the opposite of recluse. I wanted to be out there, I needed the noise to drown out the inside voices, the fading limerence of the mother-son bond. So even though our worlds were roughly an half hour away from each other, it was nearly parallel. And she needed someone to free her from her own cage, while I... I needed someone to ground me from running away. Other than my father, she was becoming my reason to shape up. Nearly a year in, I found my joy in Greta. We spent our days netflixing, watching races, video games, car meets, and she even became my cheerleader and mouth piece for races. When Robbing Hood caught wind, he brought her onto the operation as the store front receptionist. While I was highly reluctant about her getting involved, she assured me that she would keep her eyes and ears closed to the backdoor. The last thing I wanted was for Greta to become a unnecessary casualty should anything pop off. That fateful night with Chino, that's something of a constant reminder...
It was a Sunday evening turning late, Greta and I had put the finishing touches on our 4-hour date. We spent the day in Santa Monica at the pier, enjoying ourselves, playing games and winning a couple prizes. Strangely enough, as long as I lived in California, the Santa Monica pier was never on my bucket list, making it the first adventure here. After our fill of fun, we stopped by Cobi's, just a little ways off from the pier and got some dinner. Sitting across the table from Greta, seeing her dig in her meal and be all smiles, being lively, as if this life was missing from her this entire time, it was fulfilling to witness. Maybe it was the atmosphere, all the flora, the amazing food, or just our company to each other, but she was happy, I was happy. And I was just ready to pop the question. -No, not that question. just for her and I to move-in together.
"I had a great night with you. You always bring a smile to my face, CJ."
"I'm glad you had a good night as well, I did too. I always do when I'm with you."
Greta blushing and smiling, we both met in the middle, lathering in each other's kisses. The tension between was thick and prime to be cut. Not once had we had sex, and that was the last light to cross to make it a full-blown relationship. But to do so in our terms, in our way, it was worth the wait, it was worth the blue balls that was killing me.
"I'll see you tomorrow at work?"
"Bring coffee, like mine black and sweet, like you", Greta flirted. After she made her exit, I watched her walk and disappear from my view. I sat there for a moment, staring into the night, staring into the LED lights that lit up the city and far beyond. Contemplating my next move. I couldn't do this street racing for life. I couldn't work at the shop with Robbing Hood forever. And honestly, I felt I was drifting away in the wrong direction. I sat back in my seat, slouching down a bit, listening to the tunes on the radio, glancing at the F1 car, dangling before me. Like some sign or omen... I still love the sport, I love to race... Am I even still cut out for it?... It's been so long since I've entered a open car race, I wasn't sure if my skills were even good anymore for professional racing...
("Where do you see yourself in five years, Greta?")
(Five years? I see... Myself, and you... If we get that far, and if we do, whatever it is we're doing, I'll be happy with you... I see myself in the winner's circle... In our circle...)
Just as I was ready to pull off and get home, I get a call. "Hood, what's up?"
"Yo, where you at bro???"
"I'm about to head home. Why? What's up? Need me to come through?"
"No, I need you to get your ass off the streets! You've been made!"
"What? Made? What are you talking crazy about?"
"Listen, listen!" Robbing Hood sounded exerting more of a serious tone. "Those guys in Sacramento that we rolled up? A couple of Rollers came to a shop a few days ago and got into a verbal quarrel with Greta. She told me not to tell you about them and she will handle it. I just saw a couple of their cars running your way, hitting the exit. They didn't look like the wandering type and it damn sure wasn't a race going on. I'm hoping it's not about to involve you, but get your ass off the streets, man!"
All of a sudden, I felt I was being watched this whole time, and I couldn't shake the feeling that crawled under my skin, making the hear on my neck stand. "Alright, alright! I'm outta here, let me-"
And that's when it happened -shots fired-
At the screetch of burning tyres that riled the night, a patter of rapid-fire bullets were whizzing in my direction, some sinking into the car. Instantly, I leaned over into the passenger seat where the aroma of Greta linger around my nose as I covered for my life. After a brief intermission of silence, I jumped up and peeled off the curb and bailed on the red lights without hesitation or concern for other drivers.
"CJ! CJ! You still there!?"
"Yeah man! What the actual fuck!? I thought you said they were heading this way?? Some rider was out here dolo, shooting at me!"
"Are you hit!?"
"Nah man, I laid low and booked it the first chance I got!"
I hauled ass, booking 70 through a 25 zone, nearly swiping one pedestrian. My mind raced, my eyes reading what's ahead of me left and right like a type-writer, I didn't even bother to look at the rear view mirror to see if I was still being chased. But realizing that the shooting had stopped, I chanced the visual in the mirror and lo and behold, a green-fucking-sabre.Instantly, I thought it was impossible as I ran flashbacks in my head. And if that didn't make things worse, sirens behind both of us started to give chase. This was just like my luck, when shit seems a little too perfect, a storm commences. Luckily for me, I installed a new toy I've been waiting to try out, some good ol' NOS. After banking a left and nearly missing two cars, I turned the jets on and blazed the streets of a sleeping neighborhood.
"I-I-I think I lost them!"
"CJ, don't fuck around looking to make sure you did. I'll send you an address to lay low at, do not go home tonight!"
"Copy that!"
While my chances of a getaway this time seem grim, it worked out putting distance between myself, the green sabre and the sirens. But I made one fatal mistake... I took my eyes off the road. With a second to look to in the rear view mirror, that was all it took to not see a massive pothole that was not sectioned off. The pothole was deep enough to be a fucking crater, cause the front fender took a deeper dip, slamming into the opening layer of the pavement and used it's own momentum to angle out and tumble until I came to a stop. I wasn't sure if it was a blessing or a curse, but the car and I found ourselves wrapped around a tree that looked over a plethora of houses. Had that tree not been there, there's no telling which house I'd be crashing for the night. After I got my bearings, I crawled out of the car into the night of nearby dogs barking, awaking the neighborhood if I didn't already. A few porch lights came on, but I didn't bother to stick around. My left leg was hurting, badly. It was this point I had to limp to safety and uber a way outta hell. One thing was sure... By streets, by authorities... I was a wanted man... Death was coming to collect...
We didn't even have a FIA license yet lol